


a home in you

by canisomnia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: BITCH!!! GETTING WILD AS HELL, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Foster Keith, Gay Keith (Voltron), Laith, M/M, Mutual Pining, Shadam, adashi, klance, minor adashi, shiro and keith are family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 21:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15542316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canisomnia/pseuds/canisomnia
Summary: “It’s all your fault we’re here,” Lance muttered.Keith stopped scrubbing. “My fault?” Keith said indignantly, accidentally flicking suds at Lance. “If you hadn’t thrown that petty note at me, we wouldn’t be in this situation!”“Hey- don’t- flick- soap- at- me!” Lance forced through his teeth, throwing suds at Keith with every syllable, his face getting redder.“Then stop blaming me!” Keith straightened his back, still crouching, throwing more soap at Lance.“Hey!” Lance seethed. He picked up a handful of clean soapy water and flung it at Keith, drenching him. Keith stood, surprised, his jacket dripping with water. “Hah! You and your ugly ass jacket deserved it.” He smirked.Keith, not about to let Lance get the better of him, took his bucket and threw the whole thing at Lance. Lance yelled as the water drenched him, moaning in annoyance and hatred. “This soap will ruin my skin!” He uttered, choking. Keith felt bad for a split second after chuckling, turning back down to the floor, scrubbing. Before he had the chance to stop it, Lance’s bucket cascaded down on his head, leaving him gasping.“There,” Lance said, “now we’re equal.”





	a home in you

**Author's Note:**

> hiya! welcome to my fic, im aaliyah :-) this is my first fic, so excuse if its a little wobbly in places!  
> anyways, its majorly klance, but will have an adashi arc because cmon............ cmon.....................................

Keith grumbles, sinking lower in his seat, eyes on Shiro and his lecture. His lesson was something about the importance of teamwork and understanding between team members in any field work, which is something Keith was thoroughly uninterested in learning. Seeing as he hated working in teams, he didn’t think this lesson had any actual merit to him at all, so he tuned out Shiro’s words. When he felt something rocket into the back of his head, he let out a silent ‘ _ ooph’ _ , before turning around to glare at whoever flicked him. As he craned his neck to see who the culprit was, he saw nobody who could have touched him- however, when he looked down, he noticed a crumpled ball of paper the size of his fist. With a curious glance, Keith picked up the paper, smoothing it out on his desk. As he read it, his brows dropped lower and lower in annoyance. 

‘ _ Not paying attention in class? Beating you will be a piece of cake! :-)’ _

Keith’s scowl intensified, his disdain at whoever sent the note rising. Unfortunately, he knew exactly who the kid was- Taylor, the cuban kid at the back of the class, who was always trying to one-up him in one way or another. Keith knew Taylor would never be able to beat whatever scores Keith put up on the board- he never tried his hardest at those, anyway. What really bothered him is how many times Taylor felt the need to interrupt Keith’s inner monologues to insert his own made-up rivalry.

“Keith! What are you doing?” Shiro’s sharp voice cut through his inner monologue(why can’t a guy think in peace?) “If you can’t pay attention, I’m going to have to send you to the office.” He said sternly. The class giggled as he glanced at Shiro and then at Taylor- who was  _ laughing.  _ Keith’s rage bubbled up through his mouth, sounding off when he knew he would get in trouble if he made any more disruptions.

“Shiro! It was all Taylor’s fault, he threw a piece of paper at my head-” he seethed, muscles tensing as he stood up, slamming a hand onto the desk and throwing the other hand at the boy in the back. Shiro’s eyes widened for a second, before he furrowed his brows in annoyance and turned his head. “Who is T- it doesn’t matter. Both of you, to the principal’s office, now.” His eyebrow twitched as Keith’s anger spilled over, pushing his desk out of his way as he stormed out of the classroom. He vaguely saw Taylor getting up and trudging towards the door as he slammed through it, his vision tainted in an angry red as he stormed towards the principal’s office.

Sitting angrily in the seats outside of the office, his irritation seeped out of him like a menacing black cloud- in fact, Taylor seemed to be choking on it. Wait- choking on it? Still irritated, but now confused, Keith turned to Taylor, who’s shoulders were shaking in a hurt fashion. “What- why are you crying? You’re the one who got me in trouble!” Keith accused, feeling no sympathy for the boy next to him. Well… not a lot of sympathy.

“I’m not crying for that! I get sent here all the time for pranking the teachers with Hunk and Pidge,” his watering eyes faced away from Keith, his mouth corners turned down in a trembling pout. “And- Hey! I’m not crying!” He wiped his tears away angrily. For a sixteen year old boy, he sure was unguarded about his feelings. “You don’t actually know me, do you?” Taylor turned to Keith, his eyes still glossy with tears.

“Well- you’re Taylor, aren’t you? The dude who has some kind of infatuation with beating me or something?” Keith said quizzically, not understanding where Taylor was coming from.

“My name isn’t even Taylor! It’s Lance! I thought you knew that.” The guy, who was apparently Lance, turned away from him again. “I thought we were Lance and Keith, neck and neck!”

Keith was shocked. His name wasn’t Taylor? “But- you’re Taylor. You know, ‘they call me the Taylor because of how I thread the needle’ Taylor?”

Lance laughed bitterly, wiping his tears again. “Well- maybe you’re smarter than I thought. Its tailor, like clothes. It’s not my name. Now that you actually know my name, we really are Lance and Keith, neck and neck!” He sat up, his eyes totally dry, no traces of his breakdown showing. He cocked a brow. “I knew you were at least listening.” He smirked.

Keith shrunk in his seat, his own brows lowering in annoyance(again). “Of course. Different name, same personality.” He muttered, before getting called into the office. As he went in, he heard Lance’s name get called by another counselor.

\---

“And you two will be sentenced to cleaning the cafeteria.” The counselor finished, packing away her clipboard.

“Wait- with him?” They pointed to each other, then crossing their arms in irritation.

“Yes. Maybe you guys won’t be so mean to each other after you spend some quality bonding time building character.” Iverson interjected, shooting an iron-hot glare at Keith. “And maybe fix some… discipline issues, before a spot in the program suddenly vacates.”

Keith glares back at Iverson, hatred burning in his pupils, willing lasers to come out and shoot Iverson in his ugly fucking mouth. He  _ hmph _ s, turning away.

After school had ended, Keith and Lance trudged side by side to the cafeteria, separated by the width of the hallway, making sure to keep a stretched distance between each other. At the cafeteria, after being left with instructions and the cleaning tools, they scrubbed at the floors, anger propelling their strokes.

“It’s all your fault we’re here,” Lance muttered.

Keith stopped scrubbing. “My fault?” Keith said indignantly, accidentally flicking suds at Lance. “If you hadn’t thrown that petty note at me, we wouldn’t be in this situation!”

“Hey- don’t- flick- soap- at- me!” Lance forced through his teeth, throwing suds at Keith with every syllable, his face getting redder.

“Then stop blaming me!” Keith straightened his back, still crouching, throwing more soap at Lance.

“Hey!” Lance seethed. He picked up a handful of clean soapy water and flung it at Keith, drenching him. Keith stood, surprised, his jacket dripping with water. “Hah! You and your ugly ass jacket deserved it.” He smirked.

Keith, not about to let Lance get the better of him, took his bucket and threw the whole thing at Lance. Lance yelled as the water drenched him, moaning in annoyance and hatred. “This soap will ruin my skin!” He uttered, choking. Keith felt bad for a split second after chuckling, turning back down to the floor, scrubbing. Before he had the chance to stop it, Lance’s bucket cascaded down on his head, leaving him gasping.

“There,” Lance said, “now we’re equal.” He went back to his spot and continued scrubbing, humming, setting his empty bucket down beside him.

Keith scowled at Lance through his wet locks, his gloved hands twitching. He sighed, and continued scrubbing. “You stay on that side, and I’ll stay on this side, and we’ll be far, far away from each other.” He smoldered, his displeasure rolling off of him in waves. “You know, nobody makes me so,  _ so  _ infuriated like you do, Lance.” He seethed.

Lance, being the absolute annoyance he is, perks up, a little happy at that- for some bizarre reason.

After they both cleaned their side in a race to who could do it the fastest, Keith ran out of the cafeteria, eager to get away from Lance. Walking dejectedly through the hallway to the exit, he wondered why in the hell he allowed Lance to stir him up so badly this time. Usually, Lance didn’t make him much angrier than a moth that kept returning to a light- he brushed him off every time. But this time, he somehow was pushed to yelling at Shiro, a man who only tried his best to help him achieve. Shiro knew that Keith was just a foster kid, with no parents to speak of- the car crash that killed his parents when he was eight also killed any hopes of a normal childhood for him, and he never learned how to make friends, or build connections. Mostly, he didn’t need them- he never needed someone to get him through, it was always just him, and the knife charm he wore around his neck to remind him of  _ her,  _ of  _ them.  _ But Shiro- he just does his best for him. That’s all Keith could ever ask for. Even if Shiro can’t adopt him, due to the home’s insistence against gay parents and Shiro’s younger age(being only 25).

Keith wouldn’t want Shiro to adopt him anyways. He wiped his eyes subconsciously. Keith was a piece of work, and- and- Keith didn’t need anyone. He never did, and he never will.

Hearing the patter of steps behind him, Keith refused to turn around, hoping it wasn’t Lance. “Keith!” Shiro’s voice stopped Keith as he turned around curiously, rubbing his eyes once more. “Keith, come into my office. Let’s have a chat.” Keith groaned, but followed Shiro into his office begrudgingly, arms crossed and face showing an expression of annoyance. He didn’t want to face Shiro, especially after what happened today. It was bound to be embarrassing, and Shiro would ask him how he’s doing, what’s happening at the home, why he was acting out- he cared too much. Keith hated it when people cared.

“Keith, what happened to you today?” Shiro asked gently, folding his hands on the desk, eyes filled with that disgusting pity.  _ I don’t need your pity. _ Keith yelled to himself.

Keith tightened his arms. “I just got annoyed.” He muttered. “I don’t like that kid.”

Shiro looked at him thoughtfully. “Sometimes, you have to deal with someone you may not like, for the benefit of your own education. Do you think you were learning anything while you were at the office?”

Keith sighed, uncrossing his arms. “No… no I wasn't. But I wasn’t learning anything in class either.” He filled his cheeks with air, looking up at the ceiling. “Can I go now?” Keith asked.

“Keith.” Shiro sighed too, unweaving his fingers and leaning his head on his hand, still looking at Keith. “You may not like most people, and you may not think teamwork is vital. But it helps more than you think. In a program where only the smartest kids get the best out of the program, and the most opportunities, you may need people to help you- but more importantly, you need people to help support you. You can’t be alone forever. You’re the smartest kid in the class, maybe even the school- but it means nothing if you’re not happy.” Shiro straightens up again. “I just want the best for you, Keith.”

Keith boiled in his chair, blood rising to his head. His eyes welled with hot, wet tears. “I…” Keith stood up angrily. “Don’t need your help! I don’t need your pity!” The tears rolled down Keith’s cheeks, the torrent unleashed, alongside all of his rage. His voice cracked as he clutched the knife charm around his neck. “I had parents! Even if they’re dead now, they’re still my parents. Nobody can replace them, not even if they tried, Shiro. So stop fucking trying.” His shoulders shook as he sobbed. “You’re not my dad, so stop pretending you can even come close to him!” Keith yelled, snapping as he ran out of Shiro’s office, racing out of the school. He pretended that he couldn’t hear Shiro’s desperate calls after him.

As he descended the sand to his small shack on the beach, guilt flooded him. Once again, Shiro was just trying to help Keith, and he pushed him away. Yeah, Keith doesn’t need anyone- but pushing away someone who obviously just wanted to help didn’t help him at all. He groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “All I want is a normal childhood, with at least one parent and a vacuum. Is that too much to ask?” He muttered angrily.

Slamming open the door to his wooden beach shack, he shook the sand off of his shoes, kicking them off, and picked up a pencil from his desk. The foster home gave him a little money to survive on his own, ever since he was fourteen and couldn’t stop fighting the other kids. Not even a home for homeless kids wanted him. Gripping his pencil, he angrily grabbed a canvas and stomped out of the shack and towards the ocean. As his feet sunk into the sand, and grains kicked up behind him, embedding themselves in his jeans, his anger wavered and slowly dissipated at the beauty of the sunset in front of him. He sighed and began sketching slowly, trying to capture the shape of the shore, in an effort to encapsulate a one-of-a-kind beauty before it disappeared and was replaced by another the next day.

Hearing the slight chafe of sand from a distance, he turned around, seeing someone descend the dunes. With a start, he grabbed his pencil again, getting up and racing towards his sandy shack. Just as Keith disappeared into the shack, the wooden door banging slightly behind him, a brown mop of hair appeared to gaze longingly at the ocean.


End file.
